


Seven Kisses

by Sauronix



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alcohol, Bittersweet Ending, Car Accident, Character Death, Circular Ending, Complete, Domestic Daydreams, First Anniversary, First Date, Happy Kisses, Heavy Angst, Kissing, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Sexual Content, Near Death Experiences, Pre-Relationship, Public Makeouts, Reunions, Spin the Bottle, Tumblr Prompts, Verse 2 Timeline, World of Ruin, the first kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-03-25 01:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13824057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauronix/pseuds/Sauronix
Summary: A breeze tosses a few tendrils of hair across Gladio’s face. He pushes them back off his forehead, and his gaze moves from Ignis’s eyes to his lips. The hunger in that look sets Ignis’s pulse racing again.“Can I kiss you goodnight?” Gladio asks.Seven loosely connected drabbles about kissing, set at various times across a years-long relationship. Follows the Episode Ignis Verse 2 ending. Chapter 7: "A kiss that shouldn't have happened." COMPLETE.





	1. A Kiss Goodnight

**Author's Note:**

> All seven chapters of this fic are responses to Tumblr prompts about kissing. They are interconnected, and each one is set at a different time during a years-long relationship between Gladio and Ignis. This chapter is based on the following prompt: "Kisses because I don't want you to go and maybe I can convince you to stay just a few minutes longer."

They’ve only just left the restaurant when Gladio takes his hand, twining their fingers together as they walk back to Ignis’s apartment. A bold move for a first date. For once, Ignis isn’t wearing his gloves, and Gladio’s warm, calloused skin feels nice against his own. It feels right, like they’ve been doing it all their lives and it’s the most natural thing in the world. Ignis glances at him, and Gladio meets his eyes, and then they both look away, laughing nervously.

They barely speak. Ignis is too preoccupied with the wild beating of his heart, and with his lurching stomach, to think of something to say. It’s ridiculous that he should be so tongue-tied. He’s known Gladio for the better part of a decade. They’ve conversed thousands of times before. But it’s never been like this. He’s never been so acutely aware of Gladio’s opinion of him, never been so eager to impress.

But his anxiety is short-lived. His apartment is only five blocks from the restaurant. They arrive outside of it sooner than he would have liked.

“Guess this is where I leave you,” Gladio says, releasing Ignis to shove his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Ignis nods, his stomach sinking. He doesn’t want to say goodnight to Gladio, not yet. But it wouldn’t be appropriate to invite him up tonight. They both have work tomorrow, and he gets the sense Gladio isn’t ready to take that step yet, no matter how much he might want it.

“I suppose it is,” he responds.

A breeze tosses a few tendrils of hair across Gladio’s face. He pushes them back off his forehead, and his gaze moves from Ignis’s eyes to his lips. The hunger in that look sets Ignis’s pulse racing again.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?” Gladio asks.

Ignis’s heart somersaults in his chest, and he has to stop himself from wiping his clammy palms on his slacks. He’s wanted to kiss Gladio all night—wanted, in fact, to kiss Gladio properly for a long time, ever since that evening two years ago when Prompto roped them into a game of Spin the Bottle at Noct’s seventeenth birthday party. It was an awkward kiss—how could it be otherwise, when it was Ignis’s first?—and Gladio never mentioned it again. Ignis always assumed he wanted to forget about it.

That all changed when Gladio approached him at the gym last week, raking a hand nervously through his sweat-dampened hair, and asked Ignis out for dinner.

“Yes,” he says, though it comes out as a whisper. So he clears his throat and says, a little louder, “Yes, of course.”

But Gladio doesn’t move. He keeps staring at Ignis’s mouth, his own lips parted, hands still stuffed in his pockets. For the first time, it strikes Ignis that Gladio is nervous, too, that his palms are equally clammy and his heartbeat just as thunderous.

Well. Ignis has always been known to take matters into his own hands when the occasion calls for it.

He steps forward and tilts his face up. They’re standing so close he can feel the heat of Gladio’s body, can smell the beer and the spice from his cockatrice skewers on his breath. Before he can lose his nerve, he reaches up to bury a hand in Gladio’s wild hair, pulling him down until their mouths meet. At the touch of his soft, dry lips, Ignis floods with warmth, a kind of warmth he never knew another human being could make him feel. His cheeks heat. From the top of his head to the tips of his toes, his skin prickles with it.

Gladio breaks the kiss before Ignis can deepen it, his lips hovering only an inch from Ignis’s own. “You sure you don’t wanna go to the bar around the corner for a nightcap?”

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Ignis murmurs, voice husky to his own ears. If they drink, he’ll lose the last shreds of his self-control. “I have a meeting at seven-thirty tomorrow morning.”

“Damn.” Gladio kisses him again, his hands sliding under Ignis’s jacket to rest on his hips, pulling him closer. The kiss is chaste, without tongue, just the sweet press of Gladio’s mouth and the gentle brush of their noses. As they pull apart, his breath ghosts over Ignis’s lips. “When can I see you again?”

“I daresay you’ll see me at the Citadel tomorrow.”

Gladio chuckles. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Tomorrow evening,” Ignis says breathlessly. “My last meeting ends at eight. We can—”

Another kiss, more insistent this time. Gladio’s tongue slips into his mouth, and Ignis groans and winds his arms around Gladio’s neck, drunk on his affection. All he wants is for Gladio to lay him down and use those lips on every last inch of his body, turning his trembles into shudders of ecstasy. They’re pressed together now, from hip to chest; surely Gladio must be able to feel the need between his legs, where it’s trapped against his upper thigh. He can certainly feel how much Gladio wants him. The hands on his hips slide up his back, grasping handfuls of his dress shirt.

Ignis allows himself to tease Gladio’s mouth with his tongue just once, and then he forces himself to stop, before this goes any further.

“I had a good time tonight,” Ignis murmurs against his lips.

Gladio grazes his lips over the tip of his nose, then plants one last, soft kiss on his mouth. “Yeah. Me too, Iggy.”

Reluctantly, they draw apart. Ignis clears his throat and straightens his jacket with a tug on the hem. Gladio runs a hand through his hair again, his cheeks flushed and lips swollen. How beautiful he looks, under the dim glow of the streetlamp, his eyes a lively, rich gold.

How fortunate, that Ignis should be allowed to have him.

“Tomorrow at eight?” Gladio says. “I’ll meet you here?”

“Yes, that sounds wonderful,” Ignis says.

Gladio grins and starts to walk backwards, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on Ignis, until he reaches the corner. Once there, he lingers for just a moment, as if they can hold on to the magic of the evening so long as they’re within sight of each other. Then Ignis raises a hand in farewell, and Gladio raises his in return, and he finally disappears around the corner.

Ignis touches his lips, smiling, and lets himself into the building.


	2. An Anniversary Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis and Gladio celebrate their first anniversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was based on the prompt "tipsy kiss" on [my Tumblr](https://sauronix.tumblr.com/).

“You’re drunk.”  
  
“I am _not_.”  
  
“Yeah, you are.” Gladio grins, running a finger along the underside of the suspender hanging off Iggy’s shoulder. “The Iggy I know wouldn’t let himself be seen in public like this.”  
  
Ignis bats his hand away and shrugs the suspender back into its proper place. “We aren’t in public.”  
  
“You know what I mean.” Gladio gestures vaguely at his living room. “Anywhere but _home_.”  
  
Ignis smirks, though with his drooping hair, glassy eyes, and flushed cheeks, he looks less self-assured than usual. More dopey and cute. “I feel at home here.”  
  
They’re sitting cross-legged and facing each other on Gladio’s old leather couch, in Gladio’s apartment near the Citadel. It’s nearly midnight. The room is lit by tea lights, and there’s a bottle of red wine open on the coffee table. They’ve already consumed half of it. Between this and the vintage Cleigne white they shared over dinner at the bistro around the corner—the one where Gladio took Ignis for their first date a year ago—Gladio’s feeling a little buzzed himself.  
  
“You’d damn well better,” he says, grabbing Ignis by the suspender again, “after all the time you’ve spent here.”  
  
That smirk softens into a fond smile. “It’s closer to the Citadel than my place.”  
  
“Uh huh. Nothing at all to do with the hunk warming the bed for you.”  
  
Ignis rolls his eyes, but before he can offer a witty rebuttal, Gladio tugs on the suspender and leans in to kiss him. Their mouths collide, and Ignis groans softly, raising a hand to brace himself on Gladio’s arm. Normally, when Ignis kisses him, it’s precise, engineered to turn him on. They’ve been together long enough that Ignis knows just how to push all the right buttons. But this one is graceless. Sloppy. A hot tongue laps at his lips, languidly explores the inside of his mouth, more uncontrolled than Ignis ever lets himself be. He tastes of grapes, bittersweet, like the wine they’ve been drinking.   
  
When they pull apart, Ignis doesn’t open his eyes. It’s like he’s in a trance, swaying a little where he sits, his full, reddened lips parted. Goddamn, how does he manage to look so debauched, but so innocent? Gladio tucks a stray lock of sandy hair behind his ear and leans in again, kissing him softly once, then twice.   
  
“I love you,” he says.  
  
Ignis opens his eyes and smiles, and then he’s climbing into Gladio’s lap, pressing their lips together hard. Dizzy with booze or lust—or maybe both—Gladio lets Ignis push him down against the cushions. He winds his arms around Ignis’s slim waist and forgets about everything but the breathless kisses they share, and the throb of arousal between his legs. Warm hands slip under his shirt, ghosting over his skin, as Ignis starts to mouth a wet trail along his jaw and down his neck.  
  
Groaning, Gladio tilts his head back against the armrest, letting Ignis press a kiss to the hollow at the base of his throat. They’ll make it to the bed sooner or later, but with Ignis’s weight pinning him to the couch cushions, he’s in no hurry to move. He’d rather Ignis work his way down, down, adoring Gladio’s body with those tipsy kisses, until he reaches the band of Gladio’s dress pants.  
  
“Gladio?” Ignis murmurs, raising his head, his unfocused eyes searching Gladio’s face.   
  
Gladio cups the back of his neck and gives him another lingering kiss. “Yeah?”  
  
Ignis smiles, touching their foreheads together. “Happy anniversary.”


	3. A Life-Affirming Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio is thankful Ignis didn't die that day in Zegnautus Keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on the prompt "'you nearly died' kiss" on [my Tumblr](https://sauronix.tumblr.com/). Please note, this is set in the Episode Ignis Verse 2 timeline.

Almost as soon as Noct enters the crystal, Ignis passes out in Gladio’s arms.  
  
Gladio carries him out of Zegnautus Keep with Prompto shuffling silently at his side. He tries not to look at the scars fading on Ignis’s skin, the jagged veins of residual magic that shimmer like sunlight on ripples of water. Tries not to think of how much it must’ve hurt, to have the ring burn him up from the inside out.  
  
They came so close to losing Ignis tonight. So goddamn close.  
  
Gladio swallows the lump in his throat and wordlessly boards Ravus’s dropship.  
  
At the Leville in Altissia, Ignis sleeps for a day and a night. Gladio hardly leaves his side, except to use the can, or wander down the hall to get a snack from the vending machine. Prompto keeps him company. They sit on the couch and play cards, and talk about the future—what they’ll do when Ignis wakes up, how they’ll keep the daemons at bay under a steadily darkening sky. Shit. Gladio wishes he had all the answers, if only so Prompto would stop frowning.  
  
Ignis stirs on the morning of the second day. Gladio’s at his side in a heartbeat, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder as he sits up.  
  
“Take it easy,” he says. “You’re safe.”  
  
Ignis rubs his hands over his face, his brow furrowing in confusion. How much does he actually remember? How much of his fight with Ardyn feels like a dream? Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he forgot what the ring did to him, if he forgot the seething fissures that split his skin open from head to toe.  
  
But then Ignis looks into his eyes and asks, “Noct’s in the crystal?”  
  
“Yeah,” Prompto says. He reaches out to squeeze Ignis’s arm. “Safe and sound, buddy. First Secretary Claustra sent some Altissian forces to guard the crystal until we can get it shipped to Lucis.”  
  
“To Lucis?” Ignis echoes.  
  
Prompto nods. “We’ll go with it once her people get it out of Zegnautus Keep. We’ve been in touch with Cor, too. He’ll meet us at Galdin Quay. He said we’ll put it in Angelgard and keep an eye on it from the shore.”  
  
Ignis nods again and closes his eyes, leaning his forehead on Gladio’s shoulder. He must be more exhausted than he looks, if he’s letting himself show this kind of weakness in front of Prompto. Gladio’s overwhelmed with the sudden urge to hold Ignis, to kiss him until he’s breathless, and never let him go.  
  
Gladio glances at Prompto. “Mind giving us a few minutes?”  
  
“Sure.” Prompto looks reluctant, but he rises, giving Ignis’s arm one last squeeze. “I’ll see if I can find you some Ebony.”  
  
He lets himself out of the room, leaving Ignis and Gladio huddled together in the muted afternoon light that bleeds through the slats of the blinds. Now that they’re alone, Ignis’s breaths come in choppy shudders. Gladio buries a hand in his hair, sinking to his knees to pull Ignis against his chest, almost limp with relief that Ignis is still here, in his arms.  
  
“You’re such a goddamn idiot, Ignis,” he says fiercely. “Why did you do it?”  
  
“I had to save Noct,” Ignis murmurs.  
  
“Save Noct?” Gladio pushes Ignis upright, holding him by the shoulders. “Save him from what?” When Ignis doesn’t respond, Gladio cups his cheek, tilting his head until their eyes meet. His stomach knots up when he sees the misery on Ignis’s face. “Save him from what, Iggy?”  
  
“I saw him,” Ignis whispers. “I saw him die, Gladio. They killed him. They ran him through with their swords—”  
  
Gladio frowns. “Who killed him?”  
  
“The kings of Lucis.” Ignis closes his eyes, turning his face into Gladio’s palm. “They killed him to stop Ardyn. To stop the Starscourge.”  
  
None of it makes sense. Gladio’s thumb strokes his cheekbone, soothing. “It was just a dream.”  
  
“It wasn’t.” Ignis places a hand on Gladio’s wrist, his eyes opening again, his voice rising. “Pryna showed me the truth in her last moments. I couldn’t let it come to pass, Gladio, I couldn’t—”  
  
Gladio kisses him, muffling the words between their lips. Ignis makes a little sound of surprise, and Gladio gathers him closer, crushing Ignis to his chest, kissing him like it’s the last chance he’ll ever have to do it. He’s always known he might have to die for Noct’s sake, but for Ignis to put his life on the line like that…  
  
What if they’d arrived a few minutes later?  
  
Too late to stop Ignis from slipping away?  
  
Ignis’s arms go around him, and Gladio greets his tongue with his own, sliding his hands up the back of Ignis’s t-shirt to touch his heated skin. As a rule—fuck, as a matter of _necessity_ —Gladio tries not to dwell on all his close calls. He’s had so many that thinking about ‘em would take up most of his waking hours. This, though…this, he can’t ignore. Ignis is alive in his arms, but it might not have ended this way. It might’ve ended with Gladio closing his glassy eyes for the last time and carrying him back to Altissia to bury.  
  
That’s why the warmth of his skin and the taste of his lips are so goddamn precious.  
  
“I believe you.” Gladio trails his fingers down the knobs of Ignis’s spine and presses another, softer kiss to his mouth. “Just don’t do that to me again.”  
  
Ignis rests a hand on Gladio’s neck, thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “If Noct needs me—”  
  
“Then we’ll find a solution together,” Gladio says. “I’m not letting you throw your life away.”  
  
Ignis smiles, and his tired eyes go soft with affection. Gladio kisses him again, then enfolds him in a hug, his heart soaring when Ignis nestles his head against Gladio’s own. They hold each other for a minute, neither speaking. If Gladio had it his way, they’d stay just like this, with Ignis safe in his embrace, forever.  
  
But that ain’t Ignis’s style.  
  
“Perhaps you could call Prompto back in,” he says, his breath tickling Gladio’s ear. “And I’ll explain what Pryna showed me.”  
  
“Yeah, Iggy,” Gladio says, “I will.”


	4. A Reunion Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio and Ignis are reunited after a week apart in the World of Ruin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was based on the prompt "kisses because I missed you and you really shouldn't stay away so long" on [my Tumblr](https://sauronix.tumblr.com/).

The truck comes to an abrupt stop, wheezing exhaust.   
  
It jolts Gladio from his doze, and he blinks into the darkness, sitting upright when he realizes he’s been leaning on a warm body next to him. The engine shuts off. Someone turns on their phone’s flashlight, illuminating the two dozen hunters sitting on benches around the back of the truck. Everyone looks as groggy as he feels—hell, as sore as he feels. His ass is killing him from sitting on a hard surface for hours.  
  
The guy at the end of the bench pulls at the tarp covering the back of the truck, letting floodlight spill inside. Gladio winces, squinting. Fuck. After six hours in a hunter transport—all the way from Hammerhead to Lestallum, with only one five-minute piss break at a camp halfway between—the light hurts.   
  
“Everybody out!” the driver calls.  
  
The hunters around Gladio get to their feet slowly, one by one, groaning and cracking their stiff joints. Gladio pulls his rucksack out from under him and slings it over his shoulder, careful to avoid the open claw wounds on his back. He used a potion on ‘em, but it wasn’t enough to close them completely. Ignis will probably have to stitch them up.  
  
 _Ignis._  
  
As Gladio steps down onto solid ground, he glances around the Lestallum parking lot, eagerly searching for some sign of his lover. They lost contact two days ago, when the cell tower near Hammerhead was overtaken by daemons, but Ignis knew he’d be back today. Hell, they were counting down the minutes together. Gladio’s work is fulfilling, sure—he’s saving lives in a world gone to shit, helping keep the darkness at bay—but after a week apart, Gladio’s itching to have Ignis in his arms. Right now, nothing seems as important as that.  
  
“Gladio!”  
  
At the sound of Ignis’s voice, he turns, only to find himself enveloped in a warm embrace, and the sweet, clean scent of Ignis’s lemongrass soap. A hot, ravenous mouth meets his own. As desire stabs through him, he parts his lips for Ignis’s tongue, winding his arms around Ignis’s waist to pull him close, almost lifting him off his feet. It doesn’t matter that they’re standing in the middle of a parking lot full of other hunters. He kisses Ignis like they’re in their own bedroom, their bodies tucked close together, his tongue enticing Ignis with a promise of more to come.  
  
“I feared the worst when you stopped answering your phone,” Ignis pants as they pull apart for air. He cups Gladio’s face, his thumb stroking his cheek, those green eyes lingering on his lips before he leans in to press their mouths together again. “I kept trying to reach you.”  
  
“Some daemons knocked out the cell tower,” Gladio says. “I left before they could get it back up. Didn’t want to spend another minute away from you.”  
  
Ignis smiles, that sweet, soft smile he reserves for Gladio and Noct, and claims Gladio’s lips again. Gladio cups his ass to pull him closer, then slides his hands up his strong back, under his shirt. Ignis groans into his mouth, and someone nearby lets out a wolf whistle. Six, he’s only been away for a week, but it feels more like a month—a month of sleeping alone, with nothing but the pictures of Ignis he has stored on his phone to keep him company. He’d look at them every night before he went to sleep, tracing Ignis’s face with his index finger, longing to touch him.  
  
“Your next mission will be shorter, I hope,” Ignis murmurs against his lips.   
  
“Depends what Monica has lined up for me.”   
  
Gladio lets his hand slide down Ignis’s arm until he can lace their fingers together. They walk together, toward the tiny bachelor apartment they share in the hunters’ quarter of the city, hand in hand. He adjusts the bag on his shoulder, hissing as the strap slides over his wounds. Ignis looks at him questioningly.  
  
“Are you all right?” he asks.  
  
“Yeah,” Gladio grunts, pushing the strap higher up his shoulder. “Just a wound that hasn’t closed yet. I’ll have you take a look at it later.”  
  
Ignis raises an eyebrow. “Later?”  
  
“Yeah. I’ll probably only have a couple of days with you before I have to head out again.” They arrive outside their door, but before Ignis can get the keys out of his pocket, Gladio backs him up against the doorframe, his hands on his waist. He can feel the tension trembling in Ignis’s body, can feel how much Ignis wants him. “And I plan to make the most of it.”  
  
“I certainly hope so.” With a small moan, his mouth opens under Gladio’s kiss, and their tongues caress again as they clutch each other close. Gladio never wants to let him go again. But all too soon, Ignis draws back and jangles the keys, his smile turning flirtatious as he meets Gladio's eyes. “Let’s not waste any more time, shall we?”


	5. A Kiss for Future Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis and Gladio share a private moment after the dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was based on the prompt "laughing kiss" on my Tumblr.

When Noct and Prompto fall asleep in the bunk beds next to them—Noct breathing deep and even in the top bunk, and Prompto softly snoring in the one beneath it—Gladio shifts closer to whisper in his ear.  
  
“So what next, Captain? The world, as they say, is our oyster.”  
  
Ignis smiles, turning on the bed until they’re facing each other. The springs creak under their combined weight, the mattress dipping dangerously between them. There’s hardly room in the lower bunk for Gladio, let alone both of them, but Ignis had no desire to take the top bed. Why sleep alone when he could be in Gladio’s arms? They spent enough nights apart during the Scourge.  
  
He moves his head until their foreheads touch on the pillow. It’s dark in the glaives’ dormitory—there are, after all, no windows in the metro tunnels—and the only sense he has of Gladio is the warm breath ghosting over his face, and the hard body pressed against his own. This is the first time in ten years he has truly felt at peace. Ardyn is gone, and so is the Scourge, but Noct is still here. They watched the sun rise from the roof of the Citadel, the four of them. It burned on the glass ruins of Insomnia’s skyscrapers, and glittered on the bay in the distance, spilling its warmth on a world that went too long without.   
  
The future lies ahead of them, ripe with possibility.  
  
“What next?” Ignis murmurs. He hasn’t given it much thought; he was always too preoccupied with saving Noct to consider what might come after. “I suppose we’ll start cleaning up the mess Niflheim made. And then we’ll rebuild.”  
  
Gladio’s lips brush against his own. “The buildings or the government?”  
  
Ignis smiles and presses their mouths together, sweet and chaste, sliding a palm up Gladio’s flank. “Both, I imagine.”  
  
“Buildings first,” Gladio says. “We need somewhere to live.”  
  
“Some of the apartment towers may still be serviceable.”  
  
Gladio laughs quietly in the darkness. “Sign me up. We can move in tomorrow.”  
  
Ignis rests his hand on Gladio’s chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart. They’ve been together for twelve years, but they’ve never truly shared a home. Ignis spent weeks at a time sleeping at Gladio’s apartment, back before they left Insomnia, but it wasn’t _theirs_. It belonged to Gladio, and Ignis was just a welcome visitor.   
  
Then there was the road trip, and ten years of living in hunter camps, sometimes hundreds of miles apart. There was no such thing as home. They were nomads, sleeping wherever—and whenever—they could find adequate bedding.  
  
After all that, the possibility of building a life together quickens his pulse.  
  
“Is that what you want?” he asks, a little dazed.  
  
“What? Getting an apartment?”  
  
“Getting one with me, specifically.”  
  
Gladio chuckles, his lips grazing the tip of Ignis’s nose. “Well, yeah. That a problem?”  
  
“No, I…” Elated, he laughs a little breathlessly, cupping Gladio’s face to pull him into another kiss. He melts into him when Gladio’s arm goes around him. “After all this time, I suppose I never imagined we could be… _domestic_.”  
  
“Yeah? I thought about it all the time, right down to the colour of our sheets.”  
  
“We could have a bed of our own.”  
  
“A sturdy one.” Under the blanket, Gladio rests a palm on his rear, squeezing gently. “But I plan on breaking it as soon as I get you in it.”  
  
Ignis laughs again, and Gladio presses their lips together to stifle it, his tongue slipping into his mouth. He kisses Ignis languorously, half rolling on top of him, his hand coming up to cradle Ignis’s face. With the sleeping glaives surrounding them, and Noct and Prompto lying in the bunk beds five feet away, he won’t do anything more than this, but it’s enough to give Ignis a taste of what to expect when they finally get an hour alone. It’s been a long while since they last made love with anything other than haste in mind.  
  
“Perhaps we’ll get a potted plant,” Ignis says.  
  
“Or a dog,” Gladio says. “A dog’s a better pet.”  
  
“But with the schedules we’re bound to have, perhaps a cat would be a wiser choice,” Ignis points out.  
  
“Maybe we can have a kid.”  
  
Ignis stills under Gladio. He’s never seriously considered fatherhood. It just never seemed possible, with the scope of his duties, and with the scope of Gladio’s duties. In many ways, it still seems unattainable. They have a country to rebuild, a government to establish, a world to heal. Where would they find the time?  
  
But the thought of raising a child with Gladio isn’t unpleasant. On the contrary, he feels warm and wanted, and part of something greater than himself.   
  
He could have a family.  
  
“Iggy?” Gladio says uncertainly.  
  
“It’s something to think about,” Ignis murmurs, shaking himself out of his thoughts, and kisses Gladio again, slow and smiling. “But let’s start with the potted plant, shall we?”


	6. A Kiss Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis says his last goodbye to Gladio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was based on the prompt "painful kiss" on my Tumblr.

Ignis hasn’t been alone with Gladio in six years.  
  
But he’s thought about him every day.  
  
Their lives weren’t supposed to be like this. They were happy together once. They talked about having a family—a home, a pet, perhaps a child. Ignis thought his heart would belong to Gladio forever. He believed Gladio would always be there when he laid his head down at night, and again when he woke in the morning. After thirteen years together, they were inseparable.  
  
Until they grew apart.   
  
The realities of working for the crown, and at a time when Lucis was balanced on the edge of a knife, were too much for their relationship to withstand. Slowly, Ignis lost himself in his work. And so did Gladio. It was no one’s fault. They just looked at each other one day and realized the spark was gone. Leaving was the easiest solution; repairing what had crumbled was more effort than either of them were able to expend. They mutually agreed to go their separate ways, content to love each other from a distance.  
  
As much as Ignis has missed him over the years—missed touching and kissing him rather than sharing polite conversation in a crowded room—he isn’t going to see him now because he wants to.  
  
 _Ignis._ The memory of Noct’s strained, somber voice is like a lingering nightmare. _There’s something you need to know. It’s about Gladio._  
  
The pastel green halls of Insomnia General’s private ICU wing are hushed and empty tonight. Ignis walks them like his feet belong to someone else, counting the numbers beside each door as his stomach churns with dread. Five. Six. Seven.  
  
Eight.  
  
He slows to a stop, hesitating on the threshold. The door is open, the curtain drawn around the room like a shroud, but the light is on behind it. Ignis can see the shape of someone in the bed.  
  
No. Not someone.  
  
Gladio.   
  
_A truck ran a red on Mystic King’s Boulevard_ , Noct said. His voice still quivered, even after all these years, even after all the hell they’ve been through. _The car rolled twice. Gladio…he…shit, Specs._  
  
Ignis takes a deep breath and steps around the curtain.   
  
The first thing he sees is Gladio lying in the hospital bed, eyes closed, his face swollen with purple bruises. He’s hardly recognizable. Only the faded ink on his bare arms, and the mane of soft, dark hair that spills across the pillow, give away that it’s really him. There’s a tube in his mouth, forcing air into his lungs from the ventilator at his bedside. It’s the only thing keeping him alive now. Bile crawls up Ignis’s throat. The world tilts, and he has to grip the footboard to hold himself upright.   
  
It can’t be real.  
  
It’s just can’t.  
  
 _There was catastrophic brain trauma_ , the nurse at reception told him, in a hushed, sympathetic voice. _It’s common in serious traffic accidents like these. In some cases, recovery is possible, but he hasn’t responded to external stimuli. I’m sorry._  
  
In other words, there’s no activity in the brain stem. The machines tether his body to this world, but the Gladio he loved is already dead.   
  
Shaken, he looks away from Gladio long enough to find his wife sitting in the chair beside him, her eyes puffy and red, with their two-year-old daughter sleeping in her lap. When she meets his gaze, her face crumples, and she holds out her hand to him. He takes it, squeezing gently.  
  
“Vesta,” he murmurs. Perhaps consoling her will take his mind off his own pain, if only for an instant. “I am so sorry. If there’s anything I can do—”  
  
She shakes her head, sucking in a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you. Just being here is enough.” She smiles at him blearily, her eyes bright with tears, and then her lower lip starts to quiver. “He would’ve wanted you to come.”  
  
Ignis nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I should be thanking you, for giving me the chance to…” _To say goodbye. To have this last moment with the man I let slip through my fingers. To tell him how I feel—how I’ve always felt—before you turn off the machines._ “Well, to be here with him.”  
  
“I know what he meant to you.” Vesta looks away as she says it, biting her lower lip when it starts to quiver again. Gladio never made a secret of his relationship with Ignis. Inviting him to come here, knowing Gladio loved him once, must have been difficult for her. “I’d never be able to forgive myself if you didn’t get to see him one more time.”  
  
Ignis nods, squeezing her hand before releasing it. “Thank you.”  
  
She rises from the chair and cradles her sleeping toddler to her chest, wiping her tears away with her thumb. “I’ll let you have a few minutes with him.”  
  
“Are you certain? You should stay—”   
  
She shakes her head. “I’m going downstairs to get a coffee. I’ll be right back.” She moves to the curtain, then pauses, glancing back at him. “You won’t leave him alone, will you?”  
  
“No,” Ignis assures her. “I won’t leave him. I promise.”  
  
With a final nod, she goes, and Ignis takes her place next to the bed, looking down at what’s left of the man he adored. The Shield who stood between him and the daemons is no more. _Broken pelvis_ , the nurse said, _shattered vertebrae, fractured femurs. Torn muscles. Multiple contusions. Internal bleeding._ The number of injuries, and the severity of them, is dizzying. It’s a wonder he didn’t die at the scene, crushed by tonnes of steel. What was the last thing he thought, before his consciousness was snuffed? Was he afraid? Or did it happen too fast for that?  
  
Perhaps Gladio never knew those would be his last moments.  
  
His first instinct is to take Gladio’s hand, but he finds it bruised, swollen, and splinted where it lies on the sheets. So Ignis places a hand on his arm instead, tentatively, as if the lightest touch will break him for good, and comforts himself with the familiar heat of Gladio’s skin.  
  
“Hello, love,” he says softly. “It’s me.”  
  
Gladio doesn’t answer. Foolishly, Ignis thought perhaps he would—that perhaps the sound of his voice would undo this terrible mistake and rouse Gladio from oblivion. But Gladio only lies there, his lovely eyes closed, never to look upon Ignis again.   
  
Gladio will never touch him again, or smile at him, or reminisce about the days they fought side by side.   
  
He’ll never come home from work to kiss his wife, or watch his daughter grow up.   
  
He’ll never raise the next Shield of Lucis.  
  
Gladio will be forever forty-one. And Ignis will have to live the rest of his life knowing these precious years with Gladio could have been his, if only he hadn’t been so short-sighted. If only they’d fought to keep the flame alive.   
  
Gladio is no longer his to bury. Gladio isn’t his to mourn. He belongs to someone else now.  
  
Chin quivering, eyes burning with unshed tears, he reaches out and strokes Gladio’s cheek with the back of his fingers. His skin is still soft, his lashes like feathers when they brush Ignis’s knuckles. If he closes his eyes, he can picture Gladio smiling up at him, relaxed and beautiful in the bed they shared, one arm tucked behind his head and the sheets pooled around his waist. He pictures those golden eyes soft with affection, trained, as always, on Ignis. This is the Gladio he wants to remember. This is the Gladio of his dreams.  
  
But when he looks down, all he sees is the shell that held Gladio’s soul.  
  
Throat aching, he leans forward and presses a kiss to Gladio’s cheek, then his forehead, then his hair, tears coursing down the slope of his nose to wet his lips. A single sob escapes him. He bites back the others and pushes his face into the pillow next to Gladio’s head, shaking uncontrollably as the pain howls inside him, unassuaged.  
  
 _I still love you._   
  
Ignis chokes on the words, incapable of speaking. He turns his face to bury it in Gladio’s hair, smelling blood and oil and sweet strawberry shampoo. It brings back all the longing he’s denied these past six years, longing for a man who’s now beyond his reach. He’ll never know if Gladio still loved him, too. He’ll never know if, one day down the road, there might have been a future for them again.  
  
Perhaps that’s for the best. Not knowing means he can pretend.  
  
He forces himself to take even breaths. The tears dry on his face. Slowly, as he strokes Gladio’s hair, he calms. He listens to the steady whooshing of the ventilator, and the intermittent beeping of Gladio’s heart monitor, counting down the last minutes of Gladio’s life. None of this feels real. But it is. Soon, he’ll be living in a world where Gladio no longer exists.   
  
He’ll have to make peace with that.   
  
Somehow.  
  
Someday.


	7. The First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis and Gladio share their first kiss during a game of Spin the Bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was based on the prompt "a kiss that shouldn't have happened" on my Tumblr. 
> 
> And thus concludes this story. This ending ties back to the mention Ignis made in Chapter 1 about their first-ever kiss. I thought I'd end it on a bittersweet note. Thank you for reading!

Normally, Gladio’s the life of the party.  
  
But this party ain’t like other parties.  
  
There’s no booze, and he’s spent the hour since he arrived making sure none of the guests have tried to smuggle in a case of beer or spike the punch. He’s already had to confiscate a flask and give the offender a lecture before booting him out. The last thing he needs is for Noct to get drunk with this pack of snap-happy teens, make an ass of himself, and end up on the cover of tomorrow’s Insomnia Examiner. His dad would kill him if he let a scandal happen on his watch.  
  
Being surrounded by a half dozen seventeen-year-olds—most of ‘em Noct’s classmates, barely his acquaintances, all of them but Prompto invited just to fill the space—is giving him a headache. Just about the only thing keeping him from walking out is the fact that it’s Noct’s birthday party. Well, that, and it’s his sacred duty. Sometimes being Shield-in-waiting means playing chaperone for an evening, even if he doesn’t like it. Even if it makes him feel like he’s decades older than than these kids instead of just a few years.  
  
At least he ain’t alone. Ignis is in the tiny kitchen, prepping a bunch of zucchini sticks and mini meatballs on a tray as the oven preheats. He’s got a new hairstyle, his bangs gelled straight up like an electrocuted chocobo. It should look ridiculous, but somehow, Ignis pulls it off. His shirtsleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing off his toned forearms, and the black apron tied around his waist doesn’t hide how fit he really is.  
  
Gladio’s had a hard time keeping his eyes off him. Not just tonight, but for weeks, maybe months.  
  
When Ignis glances up from what he’s doing and meets Gladio’s gaze, Gladio looks away, pretending to be real interested in the crooked Justice Monsters Five poster taped to the dining room wall.  
  
“I know!” Prompto’s shrill, excited voice cuts across the explosions coming from the video game Noct’s playing with a few of the others. “Let’s play Spin the Bottle!”  
  
Some blond kid sprawled on the couch scoffs. “You that desperate for your first kiss, Argentum?”  
  
Prompto flushes to the tips of his ears. “It—it’s not—”  
  
“Sure. I’d be down for it,” Noct says. He pauses the video game and tosses the controller on the coffee table. “Could be fun.”  
  
The blond kid rolls his eyes. “Are you guys twelve or something?”  
  
“It’s my party.” Noct unfolds himself from the armchair and plops down on the floor next to Prompto. “You don’t have to play if you don’t want to.”  
  
A girl with wavy brown hair sits next to Prompto and smiles at him. “I’ll play.”  
  
Prompto gives her a strained smile, his face going scarlet, just as another girl, a blonde with polka dots painted on her nails, kneels beside Noct. But the kid on the couch rolls his eyes and goes back to the video game, and another boy takes the controller Noct abandoned. Even Gladio can see it isn’t enough. They’ll need six people to make this work.  
  
Clearly, Noct’s realized the problem, too. “Specs,” Noct calls in the direction of the kitchen, “and Gladio. Get in here. We need you.”  
  
“But the hors d’oeuvres, Your Highness—” Ignis begins to protest.  
  
“They’ll be in the oven for what, twenty minutes?” Prompto whines, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “C’mon. Just one round.”  
  
Ignis gives a long-suffering sigh, knocking his glasses up to rub at his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “Very well, but only one. Despite what you may believe, Prompto, the hors d’oeuvres are only in the oven for seven minutes.”  
  
He takes off his apron, leaving it on the counter before he comes around to join Noct and the others on the floor.  
  
Gladio, though, just raises an eyebrow at Noct. There’s no fucking way he’s kissing any of these people, except Ignis, and that’s the only reason he’s even given Noct’s request the time of day. “Sorry, Princess, but I’m gonna pass.”  
  
“This is an order from your prince,” Noct says, smirking up at him. “You’re just standing around glaring and it’s making everyone uncomfortable. Loosen up a little.”  
  
“I ain’t kissing any of you.”  
  
“Okay, then you can let Prompto have your kisses if you want.”  
  
Prompto splutters, and Gladio’s eyebrow rises a little higher. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea. No matter how much Prompto protests, it’s pretty obvious he’s never been kissed—but between his own bottle spins and Gladio’s charity, he’ll probably get more than he can handle here tonight. Yeah. He can do this to help out a friend.  
  
Besides, maybe Gladio will get lucky and land on Ignis.   
  
He shrugs and sits down between Ignis and the girl next to Noct, and loosely clasps his hands in his lap.  
  
Noct grabs an empty soda bottle off the coffee table and sets it on the floor in the middle of the circle, then gestures to the girl between him and Gladio to go first. She spins it and gets Prompto. Giggling, she covers her mouth with her hand, while Prompto turns the colour of a Leiden tomato. To no one’s surprise, she makes the first move, leaning across the circle to plant a peck on his lips. It happens so fast, Gladio almost doesn’t notice it. He’s too busy being hyper-aware of Ignis sitting next to him, and how his knee keeps knocking into Gladio’s as he fidgets.  
  
Then it’s Gladio’s turn.  
  
Stomach churning, he gives it a spin. The bottle does four rotations before it starts to slow. _Please let it be Ignis_ , he thinks.   
  
_Please don’t let it be Ignis._  
  
 _Gods, I want it to be Ignis._  
  
The lip passes Noct and the girl next to him, and maybe the universe is trying to fuck with him, because it comes to a stop pointing at Ignis. Fuck. Gladio’s mouth goes dry as he stares at it, almost too nervous to look at Ignis. He could give this kiss to Prompto, but he doesn’t wanna. He wants this kiss for himself. He wants to know if Ignis’s mouth feels as soft as it looks, and if he’d kiss Gladio back. But maybe Ignis isn’t into other guys. Maybe the thought of kissing Gladio turns his stomach.  
  
Somehow, he gathers the courage to glance up, and he finds Ignis looking at him with wide eyes and parted lips, his cheeks pink.   
  
“You, uh…” Gladio licks his lips and takes a deep breath. Fuck, his heart is pounding so hard it feels like it’s gonna bust out of his chest. “You cool with me kissing you, Iggy?”  
  
“I suppose so,” Ignis says faintly. “Those are the rules of the game, after all.”  
  
Gladio nods and reaches out to cup Ignis’s cheek. His skin is hot in Gladio’s palm, almost feverish, his pulse fluttering under Gladio’s pinkie where it rests against his throat. Everyone else is watching them, but that doesn’t seem to matter when he’s so close to Ignis he can see the rings of blue around his irises, and the smattering of tiny freckles on his cheek. And suddenly Ignis’s lips are brushing his own, hesitant and chaste and lingering. It’s not at all what he expected.  
  
But it’s dizzying.  
  
Gladio presses back, firm, tilting Ignis’s head with the hand on his cheek so they don’t bump noses. When Ignis pulls back a little, Gladio chases him with another closed-mouth kiss, wanting more of his lips, more of his touch.   
  
He has no idea if he should slip Ignis some tongue. Would that be going too far?  
  
Or is that normal in games like this?  
  
Just as he’s about to part his lips, the oven beeps in the kitchen. Ignis wrenches himself away like he’s been scalded and leaps to his feet, leaving Gladio panting and red-faced—and more than a little embarrassed—on the floor.  
  
“The hors d’oeuvres,” he says, flustered, and storms into the kitchen without a second look at Gladio.  
  
Shaken, Gladio touches his mouth, imagining he can still feel the warmth of Ignis’s lips there. It stings that Ignis scrambled away as soon as he had the first excuse, that kissing Gladio scared him back into the kitchen, but…   
  
He didn't say no.   
  
He let Gladio touch him, let Gladio _kiss_ him. More than that, he made the first move. It was Ignis who bridged the gap between them and brought their mouths together. Ignis let Gladio kiss him until that goddamn buzzer went off, and it was like the sound of it jolted Ignis back to a reality he was perfectly happy to forget, at least for a few minutes.  
  
But does it mean anything? Maybe he’s reading into things too much.  
  
Gladio looks at him fussing over the tray on the stove, flipping the zucchini sticks with a pair of tongs, and he wants to belong to Ignis. He wants Ignis to belong to him. He wants Ignis to be in his arms after a dinner date, laughing and letting Gladio kiss him again and again, until they’re both breathless on the front step of his apartment building.  
  
Gladio’s going to make it happen.  
  
Just as soon as he gathers his courage.  
  
One of these days.


End file.
